


In the Comfort of Peace

by ChatoyantPenumbra



Series: The Blue Lion and the Grey Wolf [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blue Lions Route, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Drunk Dimitri, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 08:21:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChatoyantPenumbra/pseuds/ChatoyantPenumbra
Summary: The war has ended, and at last, all resistance in Fódlan has been quelled under King Dimitri’s reign. After their recent marriage, a night in celebration with friends reveals Byleth’s pain in wartime, and Dimitri weeps for his beloved.





	In the Comfort of Peace

**Author's Note:**

> First published FE3H fic!! I was in the Yu-Gi-Oh! Fandom for a very long time but I think I’ll be switching pretty permanently to writing FE3H, Dimitri, and Dimileth fics. Without further ado, please enjoy this twitter prompt!! It was supposed to be a Drabble but I took it and couldn’t help myself with the angst OOPS

The goblet in the King’s hand is nearly overflowing with wine the entire night, and with how busy everyone keeps him with conversation, he barely notices how much he drank. Sylvain is mostly at fault for this, refilling the goblet next to Dimitri whenever he notices his friend takes a swig from it, but only when he looks away. Felix shoots him a sharp glare when he realizes what kind of state their monarch is in. 

“Giving so much wine to a wild boar—are you trying to _ kill _ us?” His voice is colored with humor as much as it is with annoyance, because looking at him now, one can see that murder is the last thing on Dimitri’s mind. 

He laughs, his head swaying ever so slightly with the weight of his inebriation, though Sylvain would honestly say it’s impressive how much self-control he still has considering the volume of alcohol he consumed. 

“C’mon Felix, lighten up. We don’t celebrate the unification of our territories as friends like this every day. After all, we’ve finally gotten rid of the rest of the resistance, in every corner of Fódlan. No one has to fight anymore.”

Felix folds his arms over his chest and merely _ hmphs _ in reply, but his comfort in that is disturbed yet again by the man sitting across from them, reminded suddenly of the empty space at his side that’s been vacant for longer than comfort will allow. She had gotten up to speak with Ferdinand about recent news in Aegir territory, as during the war she had taken quite to shine to him with their ideals aligned.

“Where is my wife?”

Mercedes’ smile is as bright as the morning sun as she sets down her goblet beside Annette. “The Professor said she would be back soon! She just wanted to change into something more comfortable.”

Dimitri’s expression isn’t one of disappointment, but rather obvious longing for her return. He shifts and glances down at his own hand, at the solid gold wedding band that rarely leaves his ring finger, and out of instinct he touches the ring she gave him on that night not long ago when he had proposed. It’s far too small to fit on his finger, so he keeps it on a necklace that rests ever above his heart. That, he never takes off.

“Yearning is a strange look on you, boar king,” Felix muses, and Dimitri’s cerulean eyes flicker to meet with his. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make a face like that before recently. I’m not sure if it’s redeeming or if it just makes me a bit nauseated. Maybe both.”

Ingrid jabs him in the side for that comment, and even Dedue chimes in with his own observation. 

“His Majesty found the one who he wants to spend his life beside. Is his fondness for Her Grace so strange?”

Dimitri’s hand meets with Dedue’s shoulder, bracing it firmly in a brotherly gesture. He doesn’t notice how his words are slowed ever-so-slightly by a slur. “Please, there’s no need to address us as such here. We’re all friends—my wife told us that even back at the very beginning when she joined us as our professor…” He sighs, and it’s full of bittersweet emotion. “She is the one who made our todays—_ and our tomorrows _—possible. The least we can do to repay her is treat her as she wishes.” 

Ashe can’t help but smile, first as an exchange with Dedue, and then at the King. “You two were always together. Even after she reappeared and you didn’t have a willingness to talk to anyone, she still stood by you.”

Dimitri’s gaze shifts to him now, recalling those three moons he treated her with such coldness. His friends swear they see tears form in his eyes. Surely, it’s due in part to the alcohol. “Yes, she did. She always said we would get through it _together,_ but I would have never expected…” Those tears are disturbed when he blinks, sliding down his cheeks like mercury and disappearing into his furs around his shoulders as fast as they had come. But they don’t stop. 

“She chose me even though I was like that. She, and you all, forgave me despite all that I said and did to you…”

Ashe leans forward, empathy blooming in his heart for the new king as he shakes his head. “We care about you, and even when you were like that, all she kept telling us whenever anyone said anything against you or painted you in a negative light was that you just needed time and gentle understanding to heal. She told us to have patience and to let you know we cared at the distance you needed. She knew how to approach you even when we didn't.”

Annette nods, exchanging glances with Ashe. “She told me the same thing. I was with her when one of the priests called you cruel. I remember how upset she had been at him for it. She told him he didn’t understand anything about you and walked off.”

Ashe and Dedue also exchange a somber glance, before the sniper speaks. “She came to us for help as well. She said you had told her before the war what your favorite things to eat were, but she never saw you eat anything in those three moons. I don’t blame her, I don’t think I saw you eat either…” Ashe shifts in his seat, drawing his finger around the edge of his goblet. “She was so worried about you. She asked us how to make onion gratin soup because you told her you loved it as a child, but when that didn’t work and you didn’t accept it, she was worried soup would go cold too quickly and be unpleasant to eat when it wasn’t hot, so she asked us how to make sautéed jerky and sweet bun trio, things you could easily take with you for later if you didn’t have an appetite at the time.” 

“I didn’t have the heart to tell her you had lost your sense of taste,” Dedue adds, quietly. 

The flow of tears comes unbridled now, and the forms of his friends are nothing more than a blurred mess even as he clears his eyes. It does little; each tear is replaced with a relentless other. Dimitri’s voice quivers when he speaks.

“I remember. She would wrap them in cloth and try to give them to me in front of the wreckage in the cathedral. When I wouldn’t take them from her she cleared off a slab of rubble closest to me and left them there for me. She always smiled at me, even when her eyes were filled with the sorrow I had caused, and told me before she left that she hoped I’d enjoy them, but I never thought she…” His voice breaks. Sylvain’s hand finds purchase somewhere on his childhood friend’s back, giving it a firm pat. 

“You didn’t realize she made them for you, did you? She didn’t know much about cooking at first. Said life on the road as a mercenary hadn’t taught her anything about making proper food, but she spent hours in the dining hall kitchen learning from the chef, and with Dedue and Ashe. Even when I tried flirting with her to cheer her up she always seemed so focused on her cooking. Half the time I’m not even sure if she noticed, but that just may be because the Professor is the way she is,” Sylvain finishes with a chuckle.

Mercedes pipes up too, a smile tinted with solemnity pulling at the corners of her lips. “The Professor came to me one day right after we all got back together with the Blue Lions brooch you had given her on our behalf for her birthday. She said it must have broken when she fell into the river in the Battle of Garreg Mach and asked if I could help because she knew I sewed, but I didn’t know much about jewelry repair at the time. We went through the books in the library and found a couple on jewelry restoration, and I remember passing her room late that night after praying and her candles were still lit. I think she worked on it all night. The next morning she came out wearing that fixed brooch again and she didn’t take it off, not even during battles.”

Dimitri’s fist curls into itself so hard that he swears he can hear the bones of his hand ache with the pressure. “And to think, the things that I said to her, even when she did all of that for the wretch that I was—”

He clears his eyes in vain yet again, and his brows furrow in a determined scowl when he looks at each of his friends. “Thank you, for all that you’ve done for me, and for all that you’ve done for her. If it were not for you, I doubt we would be here before you as we are today. You helped her when all I did was tear her apart, and I _ swear on my honor _ that I will spend my entire life atoning for the misery I put her—and you—through.”

“We didn’t do as much as you’re crediting us for,” Ingrid mumbles, and her head tilts forward with the weight of apparent shame. “Really, she took that burden upon herself even when we had our doubts about your character. We were always loyal to you, but… I think we can all agree that what she saw in you and refused to let go of was something about which we were beginning to grow very uncertain. She spoke so surely of you even when we had our objections. I could see the underlying fear in her face, but she never let it reach her words or her actions.”

The sound of footsteps approaching pulls their attention away from the conversation, and all heads turn to the woman drawing near. Byleth nearly stops in her tracks as seven and a half sets of eyes fall on her. It’s apparent by their faces that they weren’t making light conversation. 

“Did I… I didn’t mean to intrude. I can—”

Dimitri rises from his seat and stands to his full height then, and her voice dies in her throat when she sees his cheeks are wet with tears. The Blue Lions watch as she’s immediately drawn to him out of instinct, but none of them are surprised. This is the way it’s always been. One of them is hurt and the other comes running.

Byleth doesn’t have the chance to get that far before Dimitri closes the distance between them and his hands rise to her face to cradle her cheeks. His lips are upon hers in a second, kissing her with what feels like all of the emotion that exists in the world. And despite how such displays of affection would normally make them turn away out of embarrassment and respect, given the solemnity of the situation, none of the lions can seem to look away. The King kisses her with the weight of the world upon his shoulders. 

When he speaks, it’s as though everything has faded from his view, that she is the only one there. “Thank you for everything, my beloved. ** _Please_ **, allow me to atone for the ways I hurt you.”

She readily kisses him back the way he needs despite her confusion. Her hands linger at his neck, fingers caressing his hairline in a way that nearly makes him shudder. “There’s nothing to atone for…”

His arms wrap tightly around her, not caring who sees, not caring for their opinions when he so brazenly takes her into his embrace. “There is. And I will do whatever you ask of me for as long as I live.”

She hugs him back, allowing herself to enjoy the comfort of his firm grip before pulling away just enough to look into his eye, cupping his cheeks in her small, warm hands. 

“Then for the rest of our days together, forgive yourself and let yourself experience true happiness.” 

He kisses her again with just as much emotion, and when they draw apart for yet another embrace, Byleth glances around the thick furs and heavy fabric of his mantle at Sylvain with a teacherly look of reprimanding. The heir of Gautier can’t help but chuckle to himself, knowing she can smell the alcohol on her husband's breath, and he shrugs as he mouths _ sorry, Professor _ to her. Felix nearly smacks the back of his head. 

The royal couple returns to their chambers that night, and Dimitri holds her like he’ll never let go, makes love to her like she’s all he sees. In the peace of the afterglow, with the moonlight streaming through the high windows of the room, Byleth kisses the scars of his eye and the still-healing dagger wound where his clavicle meets his shoulder, and their eyes shine like topaz and emeralds when they gaze at each other.

In those moments, they are not king and queen, monarch and archbishop, or professor and student. They are simply as they are, a husband and wife desperately in love.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know if you liked it!


End file.
